Jennifer and Rocket (The Princesses of Silicon Valley Book 6) (7 page)

Driving home from Rocket’s on Saturday night, I finally come to an understanding with myself. He’s really hot and fun to be around, I loved making that knife. Rocket’s going to be my wild fling. I figure this is better than a hookup and less than a real boyfriend. He’ll introduce me to hot, wild monkey sex. We’ll visit art galleries and make cool things. Anyway, how long will it last? After it’s over, I’ll find myself a cute metrosexual lawyer or banker. Now I feel relieved, less conflicted. For the next couple of weeks, I’m going to kick back and enjoy.

In the morning, I head up to Rocket’s with a smile on my face. I was going to scrapbook this afternoon, but making a knife is so much cooler. I arrive at the coffee shop’s parking lot. As I sit in my car listening to the end of the song, I wonder if I should go inside. The song isn’t even over when I see Rocket emerge. He has this way about him. The way he holds himself, the way he walks, the set of his jaw. Even with the shaggy hair, frayed clothes, and tattoos, he looks masculine and gorgeous.

We head over to his place. The energy is casual and easy on one hand, while on the other it’s totally sexually charged, which makes it exciting. Now that I have my plan in place, I’m ready for my wild fling, but first I want to finish my knife.

We work for a while in his studio. The process is fun while the sexual tension keeps rising. When we finally take a break, Rocket leads me over to the picnic table where I surprise him by pulling out the coffee cake I made when I got home last night.

I watch him devour three pieces as my libido ramps up. He eyes the plastic container. Really, he can eat more? It’s so not fair that guys can eat three pieces and still look hot.

He gives me a sideways glance and asks, “Do you want to finish working on the knife?”

The knife might be fun, but I’m ready for my hot monkey sex. I stalk over to him and straddle his lap. Lightly kissing his bottom lip I say, “I was thinking it would be more fun to do something else.”

He gets a surprised look in his eyes as his mouth quirks. “Like what?”

I drag my fingertips along his amazingly strong jaw, then lean in and suck his ear as I whisper, “Oh, I don’t know, I bet we can think of something.”

His breathing gets deep as he picks me up and walks us straight to his bed, leaning me over it and dropping me down. I squeal, and the next thing I know we’re stripping off our clothes. My heart actually stops when he pulls off his shirt and I get to see the chest that goes with those arms. Damn, he’s covered with tattoos and piercings, but even so, it’s the best chest I’ve ever seen. With reckless abandonment, I lean down and suck one of his nipple rings into my mouth. He gasps and I can feel his muscles tighten. He leans back and pulls me with him. We start kissing again as our hands explore each other’s body. By now I’m naked and he’s still got his jeans on. I reach down and unzip them.

Oh, my!

He goes commando.

I run my fingers along the V of his hips, he releases the kiss as I reach his dick and run my finger….

WHAT THE HELL!

At first I’m startled, then I look down. He’s pierced his dick. I’m not quite sure if I say it out loud, but I find myself standing in the room pointing at his dick. A dick that has a metal stud through it!

He runs his hands over his face and says, “I was running with an alternative group in college. We were pushing the edges of everything. This was one more edge to push. At the time, it made sense.”

“How the hell can piercing your dick ever make sense?” I stand naked in front of him unable to take my eyes of his pierced dick that's standing at attention.

We’re at a standoff. Me—standing there naked. Him—with a deflating pierced dick.

“Jennifer,” he says in a soothing sweet tone. He holds out his hand. I’m not sure if I should grab my clothes and run out of here. I wanted a little walk on the wild side…but this? I’m not up for this. What other crazy decisions has he made?

Unable to make a decision on what to do, I reach out and take his hand. He carefully pulls me to him and sweetly kisses my cheek.

“I’m an artist, I’m into body art,” he says in the same tone he would use for a scared animal.

I feel my body relax as he gently runs his hand down my back. I look into his dark eyes and I see patience and caring as he folds me into his lap. For some reason, this makes me feel comfortable, even safe. He slowly leans into me and gives me a gentle kiss.

Then he says, “Tell me what you want to do, but first let’s talk.”

I nod, lean into his shoulder, then kiss his strong jaw. His bedroom is small, and warm, it feels private. He leans back with me still in his arms. Coming down from the shock of his piercing, Rocket and I spend the most intense afternoon in his bed. We don’t make love; instead, we touch, kiss and talk. I’ve never been this emotionally or physically intimate with anyone. Hours later, we finally pull ourselves out of bed because we’re hungry. At dinner, we practically feed each other as we find it difficult to separate. I realize two things. One:—I haven’t thought about school all day. And, two—I need to leave Rocket and go home.

Leaving Rocket is difficult, our bodies are so entwined it’s hard to think that I can survive on my own.

On the way home, my brain buzzes with what happened to the two of us today. Entering my apartment feels like I’m in a parallel universe. My body aches to be with Rocket. That’s OK, I tell myself. You’re only twenty-four. You can have your wild fling. When you’re old and married, this will be the story you can tell your friends when you all get drunk and reminisce about the wild men you once dated.

As I get ready for bed, Rocket calls. Crawling under the covers with my phone I squeeze my pillow and use his voice to comfort me. I’m so giddy from my day with Rocket, I’m not even nervous about school.

***

In the morning, I pull myself together. It takes all my willpower to keep focused on my students and the lesson plan I’m working on. By the end of the day, I want to give a big cheer because I’ve kept myself together. Turning my phone on after school is over I see that in the morning Rocket left me a text:
Have a good day. I’ll call you tonight.

***

Before I left, we talked about getting together this week. He even said he’d come to my place after work. At the time, I told him I needed to be on my own during the week; I was concerned that he would be too much of a distraction. As a new teacher, I can't afford to lose focus or fall behind on my class work. Now I’m reconsidering what I said. My entire body and soul ache for him. How could I have such an intense need for someone I’ve only known for a few weeks?

We spend another night on the phone, going to sleep again with our phones by our ears. Suddenly, I have a lot more understanding for friends who carried on a long distance relationship. I remember Juliette telling me she was much closer with her boyfriend when he was back in London than when they both lived in the same town. She said using Skype forced them to communicate. Then again, if that’s the case, why did their relationship blow up when she moved to be with him?

By Tuesday, I’m thinking I’ll ask him to come down; just a trial to see if I can keep up my workload if he’s around. Rocket sends me a text:
How’s work going? Can you talk?

We spend the third night in a row talking to each other in bed. The entire time I can barely keep myself from pleading with him to drive over and be with me.

In the morning, before I leave for work, Rocket invites me to join him in Los Gatos. He’s meeting up with some of his friends for dinner. Smiling as I read his text, I realize it’s his sneaky way to get around my request that we don’t go to each other’s place during the week. Unable to resist, I agree.

***

We meet in the parking lot of the restaurant, kissing so long hard and deep I wonder if we’ll merge as one.

One of his friends finally comes over and yells in our ears, “Dude, can’t you two break up long enough to come inside and eat?”

We’re meeting his cyclist friends, the same group that was at Moe’s where we originally met. Kelly is here; she spends the night shooting me looks.

At some point, she says, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” Giving me a piercing look she continues, “Jennifer, the bathroom.”

With my sweetest smile, I say, “I’m fine.”

She gives me one of her death glares. “Mulan.” She must be serious if she’s bringing out my princess name. I’m not going to get out of this. I follow her into the bathroom.

As soon as we enter, she gives me a surprised look, “What the fuck is going on with you and Rocket?”

“Why are you surprised? You butted into our date last Saturday.”

“Yes, but you’re you and he’s Rocket. Jennifer, where did this come from?”

“I’m finally taking your advice. This is my walk on the wild side.”

She looks surprised. “Man, if I didn’t see it I wouldn’t believe it. The two of you are so…different.” She then leans in and asks, “Are you sweetening him up or is he making you wild?”

I shrug before coolly answering, “I think you're confusing artistic with wild.”

She gives me a real skeptical look. “No, I know Rocket. I don’t think I’m confused.”

“I’m having fun. Be happy for me,” I say as I head for the door.

“You go, girlfriend.” Shaking her head, she continues, “Out of all the princesses, I never took you for the one who’d have a rebel streak. This is going to be fun to watch.”

I’m always complaining about my parents’ lack of boundaries, I try to respect Jennifer’s. Even though I understand why she doesn’t need me as a distraction during the workweek, I have a hard time not getting in my truck and showing up at her place. Three weeks ago, I didn’t know who Jennifer was. Now all I can think about is how much I want her.

On Wednesday, when my friends ask me to meet them for dinner, I figure it’s an easy way to see Jennifer while still respecting her boundaries. We meet up in the parking lot—kissing so long and so deep I hope my friends forgot that I was joining them. Unfortunately, Cam comes out to remind me. The hardest part of dinner is sharing her with everyone else.

Then there’s Kelly. She spends half the night giving the two of us strange looks. At some point, she drags Jennifer into the bathroom. My heart pulses in my ears. Kelly knows me from right after my break up, a short-lived, but highly flamboyant period of my life. Back then, I was drinking heavily, doing a lot of stupid wild things, and sleeping with a lot of different women, making it well known I had no interest in repeat encounters. Staring at the women’s room door, I will Kelly not to say anything that will scare Jennifer off.

Jennifer comes back to the table with a smile on her face. I’m relieved; whatever Kelly said doesn’t seem to affect her.

***

On Thursday after work, I head down to Santa Cruz to meet up with Kyle at his shop. Not surprisingly, he’s running late. Looking over the partition, I see Kyle inking flowers on a young woman.

Kyle and I have been friends for a long time and have been through a lot together. He was the voice of reason when I was with Marissa. He kept telling me there was no need for me to rush into marriage. He also warned me that tattooing her name on my body was probably not a good idea. Even so, he willingly was the best man at my wedding. When things fell apart, he took on the herculean task of changing that tattoo into something else. Next time, I won’t be so pigheaded and I’ll listen to what friends and family have to say.

My mind flashes back to when I first met Marissa. After two years in the oil fields, I started apprenticing with a farrier. We were shoeing horses for an outfit that had a concession at Yellowstone. Marissa was one of the wranglers—a pretty, high-spirited, outdoorsy, blond. With the influx of men due to the oil boom, women were few and far between. I was so concerned with losing her, I never thought what having her would be like.

The college girl Kyle was inking enters his waiting room, checking me out with a flirty smile. Kyle gives me a smirk and shakes his head. I’ve always had a look that women were attracted to; I'm still not sure what it is since no one would ever call me handsome. In college, Kyle would joke he liked being my wingman since my taciturn nature made it easy for him to catch the girls I attracted. Then again, there were a lot of women in our arts program, and at least half the guys were gay, giving us a great ratio to work with.

Kyle and I have always been outwardly polar opposites. Where he is outgoing and gregarious, I tend to be quiet, more circumspect. He's always had a way with women while being a man’s man, which has helped his business. That, and he is a remarkably talented artist. Both of us, along with the rest of our graduating class, were slammed by the nonexistent job market when we graduated. I’m glad to see he has carved out a business while still using his art.

He watches me and my lack of interest with the college girl.

“Dude, this chick has you all wired,” Kyle says.

I’m not sure where to go with this, so I ambiguously nod.

“Come on, let’s get a burger and a beer. Maybe you’ll talk my ear off,” he says sarcastically.